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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24249169">The adventure of the very cold room</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_the_bird/pseuds/Jay_the_bird'>Jay_the_bird</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Softness, but they're in a relationship, it's a bit vague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:13:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24249169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_the_bird/pseuds/Jay_the_bird</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>for a prompt</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Victorian Holmes Prompt Box</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The adventure of the very cold room</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaisea/pseuds/Kaisea">Kaisea</a>  in the  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Victorian221bPromptBox">Victorian221bPromptBox</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s almost three in the morning, and frost is creeping over the windows, starting to obscure the view out into the gardens. Watson observes Holmes, scribbling notes to pass the time. The room is small, somewhat threadbare. Hardly the kind of room Watson expected to be staying in when he saw the outside of the house. He suspects that they aren’t as welcome here as the family lead them to believe, which means that someone doesn’t want Holmes to solve this case. Watson notes this down in his little book, and then flicks through the rest of his scribblings, taking this time to cross out the more gratuitous descriptions of Holmes’ hands. He wonders if Holmes has made this connection yet and concludes by the faint line between his eyebrows that he has done. <br/>While Holmes stands motionless by the window, Watson sits on the stone floor, a rug underneath him, trying very hard not to shiver noticeably in spite of the chilled night air. The discomfort of the cold isn’t enough for him to suggest leaving. He values these quiet times too much, sitting in silence with Holmes through the dark watches of the night. Perhaps it’s the solitude of it, just the two of them against the night. Most likely, Watson thinks, it’s the opportunity it provides to watch his partner silhouetted against the moon, alert to every movement, every rustle of the rosebushes. Holmes doesn’t seem to notice the cold, all wrapped up in his greatcoat, focused completely on the case. He looks, in these moments, like he has been carved out of marble, the colour leeched from him by the moonlight. If Watson looks from the corner of his eyes, Holmes seems to be a statue, like the effigy of some ancient god, still watching silently over the world. </p><p>Holmes makes a small sound of frustration, and Watson looks up, eyes fixed intensely on his face. He marks the line that has appeared between Holmes’ eyebrows, the tightness pulled into his lips, and tucks his notebook away. Holmes gives a great sigh and throws himself down on the worn fainting-couch set in the corner. Dramatic as ever, Watson thinks fondly.<br/>“I’m afraid our man won’t appear tonight, Watson.” He sighs, closing his eyes. “Perhaps he knows of our presence here, which significantly narrows the field, or-“<br/>“Perhaps he’s averse to freezing.” Watson interrupts, the slightest hint of bitter frustration in his voice. To any other, it would scarcely be noticeable, but Holmes sits up immediately, turning his hawk-like gaze on Watson. <br/>“My dear fellow, you’re half frozen!” He cries, shrugging one arm of his greatcoat off. “Here, come sit with me.” Watson looks towards the door only briefly, but it’s long enough that Holmes’ face sinks. <br/>“Holmes, we can’t. Not here.” A moment of silent longing passes between them. <br/>“You’re a medical man! Surely you can see the sense, my dear fellow.” The look Holmes gives him is ridiculously over the top, eyes wide, bottom lip stuck out, head tilted to one side. Watson’s eyebrows shoot upwards as he tries to hide his smile. As usual, his efforts are in vain. He gives a soft laugh and gets up, knees clicking. Holmes beams at him, leaning as far over on the couch as possible while Watson sits down next to him. <br/>“I indulge you far too often.” Watson says, resting his head on Holmes’ shoulder. As Holmes settles his arm around Watson’s midriff, tucking him into his coat, Watson shuffles closer until the two of them are pressed together.<br/>“Nonsense, this is simply to keep warm.” Holmes replies cheerfully, taking one of Watson’s hands in his own. “I can’t very well let you freeze now, can I?” Watson laughs softly, tracing his thumb over the back of Holmes’ hand. <br/>“If I told my readers how sentimental you are, they would never believe me. I should be accused of romanticising.” Now it is Holmes who laughs, clear as a bell, planting a kiss on Watson’s forehead. The two of them huddle closer, Watson’s eyes drifting closed. Silence falls once more. </p><p>All is right with the world.</p>
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